


Chicken Soup

by Silent_So_Long



Series: Four Times Kirk Ate and One Time he didn’t [4]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Smell</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken Soup

Kirk lay in the Med-bay staring dejectedly at the swollen hand he’d oh so recently acquired. His tongue still felt numb and he dared not speak in case he made a fool of himself in front of someone other than Uhura. Uhura hadn’t been able to understand him and she was a talented linguist, so the chances of anyone else understanding him was slim to none.

He laid back as one of McCoy’s nurses came breezing in, chattering non-stop to the prostrate Kirk, not seeming to mind that he didn’t talk back to her. Kirk was all too glad that she seemed to be content to the only one talking, words flowing mindlessly from her ever-moving mouth. He barely listened to her, nodding at the times that seemed most appropriate, and every time the nurse gave him a dimpled smile in pleasure.

She cooed over him, patted his cheek and applied more salve to his swollen hand soothingly. Despite being far easier on the eye, in Kirk’s mind, than McCoy, he still was glad when she bustled from the room as breezily as she came in. She also left behind a scent of jasmine and a large bowl of steaming chicken soup in her wake.

Kirk had to smile at that - chicken soup, karma for the soul and sick people alike, even in the depths of space, seemingly. He stared at the bowl sadly. Despite the delicious meaty creamy scents rising up in tempting waves from the depths of the bowl, Kirk couldn’t eat it. His hand, the one he usually used to eat with, was swollen too much to grip the spoon and his tongue was too numb to allow him to swallow properly.

He slumped back against the bed beneath him and wondered if could try and persuade McCoy to install a chicken soup drip feed to his arm or something. Somehow, he thought that a more likely option than the irascible doctor actually stooping to spoon-feed him. McCoy would only claim that it was Kirk who’d gotten himself in that state in the first place, and not McCoy himself, who’d been trying to help a friend in need.

Kirk sighed and tried not to think too hard about the reasoning behind why he was in his current situation. Thoughts of Spock and his supposedly unbeatable training program filtered through anyway, causing Kirk to sigh thickly again. Instead he focussed upon the smell of the chicken soup, reasoning that if he couldn’t eat it, he could at least savour the smell of it.


End file.
